


Gentle

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 04:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15678447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Elrond witnesses the aftermath.





	Gentle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lindirisms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindirisms/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for swallowscng’s “26 [a kiss as an apology] for Elrondir” request on [my tumblr prompt list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/176075204220/prompt-list).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Elrond could check the kitchens himself, but he would be likely to miss what he’s looking for, as would most of his staff—they haven’t broken out the Dorwinion wine since Thranduil’s last visit seventy-five years ago. There’s only one elf that will know exactly what their stock is, no matter where it’s hidden or how little is left. So Elrond stops into Erestor’s office to find his advisor hard at work. Bent over an oak desk full of parchment, Erestor looks up to greet, “My lord.”

“Erestor,” Elrond answers, and then, because Erestor prefers conversations to be direct rather than full of the usual niceties, he asks, “Have we any Dorwinion wine left? Prince Legolas will be arriving in a fortnight, and King Thranduil’s letter is as exacting as it always is.”

Erestor lets out a tight, controlled little sigh, though they both know Legolas is far easier to host than his father. Elrond will still try to accommodate that father’s wishes. Erestor taps his quill against his chin, then rises from his chair. “I will need to consult my lists.” Elrond nods and waits as Erestor disappears into the backroom—a place of floor-to-ceiling shelves with nothing but scrolls. How Erestor has managed to so smoothly run the place for centuries, Elrond has no idea.

It probably helps that in the last few, he’s had a loyal assistant, every bit as fastidious and hardworking as him. While Elrond waits, Lindir strolls into the office, walking slowly across to his own desk, neatly tucked into the corner. Elrond offers him a warm smile that Lindir shyly returns, but as soon as Lindir’s stepped past him, Elrond drops into a frown. There’s an ever-so-slight limp to Lindir’s step, only noticeable because Elrond is a healer and Lindir is someone that he’s closed to. As Lindir draws the chair out of his desk to take his seat, some of his dark hair slips along his back, and Elrond sees a flash of the light bruise marring his throat. Elrond’s stomach clenches—they’d both hoped that the marks would be hidden by Lindir’s robes. Evidently, they weren’t so lucky.

He regrets causing the bruises in the first place. He comes over to Lindir’s desk, setting one hand down on Lindir’s slender shoulder. His sympathy must resonate through it, because Lindir looks up at him, all gorgeous brown eyes. Before Elrond can get a word out, Lindir murmurs, “Please do not apologize again, my lord. When I asked you to unleash your inner soldier upon me, that was exactly what I wanted, and I adored every moment that you gave me. Now I languish in my trophies.”

His cheeks are a pretty pink as he says it, but there’s a confidence there that Elrond isn’t used to, and that, more than anything, stills his tongue. Lindir had wanted to prove that he wasn’t so fragile, and he begged Elrond for _more_ despite Elrond’s initial misgivings. Yet once he finally did give in, it wasn’t difficult to _ravish_ Lindir as his deepest urges called for. Lindir looked utterly blissful afterwards, and Elrond had kissed every bruise and scratch. Lindir had mewled and moan and professed his love a dozen times. 

Elrond doesn’t regret their evening as a whole. But he still wants to express his apology, and if Lindir won’t have his word, then his kiss will have to do—Elrond curls a finger beneath his chin and tilts him up, ducking down to brush their lips together. Lindir smiles beautifully. 

Elrond has barely withdrawn by the time that Erestor re-emerges, announcing, “We are out, unfortunately, but I will order more.”

Elrond replies, “Thank you.” 

He turns to go, because remaining around Lindir throughout the day will prove a distraction too difficult to resist. But Erestor stops him at the door, noting, “Perhaps, if you have time later, you could see to Lindir. He will not tell me what youthful nonsense has befallen him, but I believe he needs at least peripheral checking from a healer.”

In the corner of his eye, Elrond can see Lindir blushing fiercely. Centuries of experience keep Elrond’s own emotions off his face. He nods sagely, promising, “I will thoroughly inspect him this evening.” 

Lindir hides his face in one hand. Erestor nods his thanks and returns to work. And Elrond returns to his duties in the pleasant, still-lingering afterglow.


End file.
